


Srs Bsns

by Cesare



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-01
Updated: 2010-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-13 11:43:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cesare/pseuds/Cesare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney has strict rules for Jenga.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Srs Bsns

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Chibi - 2009-09-07 - Jenga](https://archiveofourown.org/works/118993) by [chkc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chkc/pseuds/chkc). 



"Roooodney," John whined.

"I said no talking! The vibrations might topple the tower!" snapped Rodney, somehow managing to whip out the words without visibly moving his lips or shaking his hand in the slightest. His perfectly steady fingers still grasped a single Jenga piece, sliding it out of the tower with infinite slowness.

"My nose itches, my back is killing me, and both my hands are asleep up to the elbows," said John through clenched teeth.

"This game was your idea. I said I'd play on two conditions." Rodney continued to ease the piece out millimeter by millimeter, his gaze fixed. "No horseplay and no cheating."

"Those rules don't say anything about no talking," John felt compelled to point out. "And it's not cheating to _stand up,_ McKay!"

"It's cheating to drape your entire upper body all over the field of play," said Rodney tartly, "and it is _certainly_ cheating to shake the table while the other player is making a move. Which you're bound to do when you sit up. As you should have realized before sprawling all over the place during gameplay!"

"I forfeit," John groaned, "just for god's sake, let me move. My entire body is one big cramp."

"Oh, please," Rodney rolled his eyes, "if it were that bad you wouldn't keep asking me to agree to let you move, you'd just stand up and walk away."

"Uh, no," John glared, "I wouldn't."

"Don't be ridiculous, why wouldn't you?!"

"Because you asked me not to. Asshole," John added for good measure.

"Really?"

That was the thing about Rodney that kept getting to John over and over again: he was always surprised whenever anyone kept faith with him, over anything-- from life or death to Jenga, like no one had ever been true to their word with him before over anything.

"It's my own fault for stupidly agreeing to your crazy rules," John sighed.

"It really is," Rodney said. "Also, you're really competitive too; don't think I don't know that figures into it."

"A little--" Rodney snorted and John admitted, "Okay, a lot. But jeez, Rodney, it's just _Jenga."_

"Well..." Rodney suddenly jerked his Jenga piece out of the tower. It wobbled slightly, but held. "There. I've taken my turn, it's now your go. You can move."

The moment John tried to push up from the table, his numb hand slipped, the table shook, and the stack of Jenga pieces fell over in a heap.

"You win," John deadpanned, and tried to roll the kinks out of his neck.

"I didn't really think you'd, hm," Rodney's hands hesitated over John's shoulders and then he started massaging and digging in. "Here, um. Backrub?"

Later, spread out facedown on Rodney's bed with Rodney's talented fingers sculpting his muscles back into place with strength and precision, John decided that in some small, select circumstances, winning was seriously overrated.


End file.
